


The Music of Emotion

by nrdcoyne



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-16
Updated: 2012-05-19
Packaged: 2017-11-05 12:03:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nrdcoyne/pseuds/nrdcoyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fic in which Sherlock is faced with an emotional problem and John tries to fix his own. </p>
<p>Rated for later chapters. Sherlock/John. WIP, slight OOC. NO BETA</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Song

**Author's Note:**

> _This is a WIP that I've been thinking about writing for a while now. I don't know exactly what route this is going to take, but I can promise you that all roads lead to Johnlock. There was an issue with the GPS so how we get there could be... Interesting. I have the first 3 chapters of this completed. I don't forsee any of the chapters getting to be over 1,000 words long and I reckon there will be no more than 10 chapters and even that's being generous. It's a short fic in theory, but like I said we'll see!_
> 
> _This is entirely un-beta'd but if anyone would like to offer their services I'd love the help! My writing programme has a particular issue with spell and grammar-checking so any help would be most appreciated._
> 
> _**John/Molly, John/Sherlock, some OOC** _
> 
> _**WARNINGS:** M/M relationship which will (eventually) be **very** physical and **very** descriptive._

"Sherlock? Are you there?" John walked into the flat, pulling his over-night bag behind him. He was entirely unsurprised to see that Sherlock was in the exact same position as he had been when John left; sprawled across the sofa. John could tell he had moved though, the violin was sitting beside him and it had been beside the window when John had exited the flat.

"Did you make the tea?"

"What? Sherlock, you really have to start paying attention when I'm talking to you. I told you I was leaving on Friday, I've been gone two days!" John exclaimed, leaving his bag by the door and running his hand through his hair.

Sherlock observes John, taking in the bag by the door, the coffee stain on his right sleeve which was barely concealed by his jacket, the creases on the side of his face, the two day old trousers and the slight bags under his eyes.

"You were with Molly then?" the tone of distaste was barely concealed. This surprised John, he knew Sherlock wasn't happy about the fact that John insisted on spending at least one night a week with Molly, regardless of what case was on, but he didn't think Sherlock actually disliked her. He decided it was better not to push the subject though, they might start talking about emotions and that was never a good topic of conversation when Sherlock was involved.  
"Yes, Sherlock! I told you weeks ago, it was our first anni- oh, never mind." John made his way into the kitchen which was, mercifully, still the way he had left it. God bless Mrs. Hudson. As John fixed himself and Sherlock a cup of tea, he heard the latter rise of the sofa and move to the window, within seconds the sound of the violin filled the flat. As John added two sugars to his tea and began pouring milk into both cups, he realized that the song Sherlock was playing was entirely unfamiliar to him.

"Been composing then?" He asked as he took a seat in his favorite armchair.

"Yes, helps me think." Predictable as always. Sherlock continued playing, the song was slow and slightly mournful, but there was something about the way it was constructed that gave it a happy feeling, which subdued the pain that seemed to be lurking underneath. From experience John knew that when Sherlock composed he put a lot of his emotions into it, for all that he claimed he had none. When 'The Woman' had left the songs had been painful but somewhat relaxed, they were playing out the emotions and letting them go at the same time. This was different, the pain in the new song continued, always parallell to the happiness and never ceasing.

"Sounds interesting"

"What?" the music stopped abruptly, but Sherlock didn't turn around.

"The song, it's interesting"

"Why? I've written hundreds of songs." Modest as always.

"It's different. Usually your songs aren't so.." John paused, but he couldn't think of another word for it, "emotional." Sherlock turned to the sheets of music on the stand but seemed to be concentrating on something other than the notes on the pages in front of him.

"It's an emotional problem" his brow crinkled slightly, "I hate emotional problems" he almost whispered the last part. John was used to Sherlock struggling with emotion but after the weekend he'd had with Molly, he couldn't exactly say he was any good with emotions either.


	2. Not So Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“John was used to Sherlock struggling with emotion but after the weekend he'd had with Molly, he couldn't exactly say he was any good with emotions either. . . .”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 2 guys, I hope you enjoy it! I promise there's a reason for all this. John's quite OOC in this chapter, but he's going to redeem himself soon. I hope.... I don't really know to be honest, he's pretty much writing himself and I have no idea where he's going right now. He has some choices to make..... 
> 
> John/Molly, John/Sherlock, some OOC
> 
> WARNINGS: M/M relationship which will (eventually) be very physical and very descriptive.

****36 hours before**

"More wine?"

"Yes, please." John smiled as he poured another drink for Molly. They were in the restaurant of the hotel John had taken her to for the weekend. It was a nice place, modestly priced but the food was incredible and the room was very comfortable. Molly giggled and took a sip from her glass, her lips lingering on the rim which was stained with her pale lipstick, John smiled even wider at the sound. He loved the sound of her laugh, he especially loved the way her eyes crinkled as she looked at him, the same was Sherlock's did. Sherlock... No. He wasn't going to think about his flatmate this weekend. His insane, highly strung, sociopathic, brilliant, talented, sexy.. Wait, did he just say 'sexy' in relation to Sherlock? Perhaps he should cut down on the wine, they were on their third bottle after all.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Molly was studying him over the top of her glass. Not in the calculated 'I can tell you everything about yourself' way that Sherlock did, but curiously. She wanted to know what John was thinking and genuinely couldn't tell. It was one of the reasons John enjoyed her company so much, he didn't feel the need to be on guard constantly, trying to hide what he was feeling or avoiding uncomfortable conversation. He also enjoyed the fact that, unlike with Sherlock, he could get away with telling a little white lie every so often, like now.

"They're not worth that much" he replied, grasping frantically at any thought that wasn't somehow connected to the man back in London, "just thinking about how amazing you look in that dress." Nice save.

The dress was lovely though, it was a simple dark blue halter-neck that showed just the right amount of cleavage. It also had the added bonus of a slit up the left side, which showed an impressive amount of Molly's thigh. John still wasn't sure how they'd ended up together, but he was glad they had. She was incredible company and was able to talk about medical issues in a way that Sherlock couldn't: she was interested in the morality of new sciences, not just their effectiveness like Sherlock was.

Molly laughed and fiddled with her glass, swirling the wine.

"Okay" she said, putting it on the table and running her fingers along the stem, in what could be conceived as a rather sexual way, "I don't know if it's the wine that's making me brave or the food, or the fact that you've managed to make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world tonight" John laughed, he liked knowing that he could make someone feel happy with themselves, like when he complimented Sherlock and saw the mans eyes -. He stopped that train of thought as he realized Molly was still talking, "I'm in love with you John."  
Everything in John's mind stopped. He knew what he should say, he was well aware of the protocol of this situation. They'd been dating for a year now, that's the whole reason they were in this hotel to begin with, but neither of them had actually said they loved each other, at least not out loud. It wasn't exactly something John had thought about either, it wasn't that he didn't care about Molly because he did. She was a distraction from all the craziness at home, she was intelligent enough for a good conversation but not so brilliant as to make him feel inadequet, she was beautiful and sexy and she was incredible in bed, but love? John hadn't seriously considered it. It wasn't as if he had time, what with Sherlock dragging him all over London chasing down murderers, human traffickers, drug gangs and the ocassional thief. He'd neglected to even mention moving in with Molly because as much as he loved her company, he knew that being around Sherlock and living that unpredictable life was what he needed and craved. The adrenaline kept him sane, helped stop the nightmares and gave him something to work towards, to focus on. It was also their main source of income, since the blog had gotten so popular they'd been turning down more cases than they'd been taking on. More than once Sherlock would have three or four cases on at the same time. That was what John lived for. That and his shifts at the medical clinic.

This entire thought process took no more than a few seconds, but it was long enough for Molly to notice his hesitation.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. John it's not -"  
"It's ok, Molly. You just caught me off guard." That was an understatement, a rather large understatement.  
"No it's not. I just figured that since we've been seeing each other for so long it was time I told you how I felt. It's alright if you don't feel the same, I mean you have your work and everything, I just... I'm sorry." She picked her napkin off her lap and left it sitting on the table as she walked away. John didn't go after her. Years later he would ask himself why he didn't chase her, but instead he downed the rest of his wine and went to the hotels bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As always I hope you enjoyed this. I apologize again for any mistakes I've made. Please point them out to me and I will do my best to fix them!

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N; Be sure to let me know what you think, I thrive off reviews, even if they are flames! I'm going to try and keep updates regular but I have exams for the next few weeks so I don't know if I'll be able..... Persuade me! ;) R/R guys, it honestly means a lot!**


End file.
